


First Kiss

by Inell



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint steals a kiss or two</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the film, though one event in canon has been 'fixed'. My first time writing in this fandom or these characters, so I'm a bit nervous. Hope it turned out okay. 
> 
> Written for Ceria_taliesin who gave me the prompt of 'Clint/Coulson-Stealing a first kiss then admitting to it' on my LJ prompt post.

The steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor seems to echo off the walls of the small room. It’s so loud that Clint can’t even hear himself breathe. Or maybe the problem is that he’s _not_ breathing. Ever since stepping through the doorway, he’s been holding his breath, like letting it out is somehow going to change the scene in front of him. As he takes a few steps closer to the bed, he keeps holding it in. He’s managed to last twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds underwater, still too many minutes shy of the record but long enough to keep his ass alive in more than a few situations, so he’s not too worried about falling unconscious or turning blue.

When he’s at the side of the bed, he hesitantly reaches out to touch. It’s only when he feels warm skin under his fingertips that he finally lets himself breathe. It’s true, then. Fury’s a liar. Not a surprise, of course, but Clint foolishly thought the old guy had some lines even he wouldn’t cross. Guess not. Cause Coulson’s alive. That irritating beep-beep-beep is proof of that. No, not irritating. Comforting. Even if it’s likely going to start giving him a headache listening to it for too long, Clint can’t remember ever hearing anything so fucking good in his life.

“You stupid bastard,” he mutters. Coulson doesn’t hear him, of course. He’s sleeping or, hell, maybe he’s still unconscious. There’s a medical chart at the end of the bed with all the specific details, but Clint isn’t Banner or Stark. He knows it’d be like a foreign language for him to even try reading it. And, while he’s able to learn a lot of different languages pretty easily, medical jargon is beyond his understanding. Besides, he hates hospitals and tries to avoid medical unless Coulson or Nat force him to go, so all he knows is that Coulson is lying in the bed with a steady beeping indicating that he’s alive.

Still, he’s wanted to call Coulson out on his actions since the battle and food was over and Nat quietly told him what happened when he’d been under Loki’s control. He’d been surprised that the news of Coulson’s death had hit him even worse than the list of the dead whose blood is now on his hands. He looks at the hand he’s got lying against Coulson’s arm and slowly removes it. It feels wrong to touch, in a way, when he’s got innocent deaths to atone for and Coulson’s a damn hero who managed to unite the whole group, even if he wasn’t there to know about it.

“You need to remember your own lectures, Sir.” He licks his dry lips and curls his fingers into his palm to keep from touching again. Coulson is special and doesn’t need Clint to taint him. He’s gotta remember that, needs to focus on why he has to stay away and can’t let himself feel and want. But it’s hard to listen to that voice in his head that sounds so much like Barney when he _wants_. Maybe if the voice sounded like Nat, then he’d listen and ignore it and pretend, but the voice in his head that sounds like her is always quiet about this. And the voice that sounds like Coulson, well. Clint thinks maybe he’s a little crazy, considering all the voices in his head and how he sorta considers them individuals instead of simply parts of his own subconscious. He can’t resist a slight smirk because he did actually pay attention to the psych class that S.H.I.E.L.D. put him through during basic training, even if he never let on. It’s easier if people think he’s nothing but a pretty face and a sure shot, after all.

“Never go in alone. Always have back-up. Don’t try to be a big damn hero on your own.” Clint can recite back a lot of the lectures he’s heard from Coulson over the last however fucking many years it’s been since he got recruited. If he’d ever sit still long enough, he’d write a book. ‘Mission Philosophy According to Coulson aka How to Keep Your Sorry Ass Alive in the Field’ or some bullshit that could get handed out to new recruits who think they’ve got the world by the balls before reality sets in and they realize it’s their balls gripped by the world. And he figures that analogy works for all the agents because the female agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. actually probably have the biggest balls of any of them. He can accept and respect, even if Nat wasn’t his best friend and blood sister.

The beep-beep-beep isn’t as loud now or maybe he’s just getting used to it. Coulson is pale and there’re circles under his eyes that seem even darker against the pallor of his skin. Clint finally takes a second to look at something other than his face and is relieved not to see any of those urine sacks or feeding tubes or anything else that might hint at the fact Coulson is alive in name only. He’d rather be dead than be a vegetable or an empty husky kept alive by machines. He knows Coulson would, too, so, yeah, it’s a relief to realize that it’s really okay. Because, if it wasn’t, there’d be more medical stuff around and he didn’t even realize that he should have checked that first but now that he has, his knees feel weak.

Clint looks down at Coulson and just stares, letting the various voices in his head argue amongst themselves while he finally feels some of the tension he’s felt since this whole mess began a couple of weeks ago start to ease out of his shoulders. Everything in his head goes silent suddenly, and he hears nothing but the sound of him and Coulson breathing and the beep-beep-beep in the background. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against Coulson’s before he can stop himself. “If you ever do anything this stupid again, I’ll kill you myself,” he promises quietly, voice barely a whisper, and he closes his eyes before stealing another chaste kiss.

After the second kiss, he hears the beep-beep-beep change tone and opens his eyes to see Coulson stirring. Clint swallows and shakily sits down in the chair beside the bed. It’s got a hard seat and the back is uneven wood, but he doesn’t really care about comfort right now. He drags his fingers through his hair and wishes for a moment that he had shampoo commercial hair like Thor so he’d have something to pull on instead of the short locks his fingers glide over. Coulson’s waking up and Clint’s just kissed him without his knowledge of approval or he’s feeling guilty for taking advantage and maybe he shouldn’t even be here at all because it’s not like he’s going to be someone Coulson even wants to see, considering the whole mind scramble Loki did on him.

“You’re thinking so hard that it’s making my head hurt, Barton.” Coulson’s voice is low and hoarse yet dry and so familiar that Clint has to blink his eyes rapidly just in case.

“Sorry, Sir,” he says, finally raising his gaze from the loose thread on the blanket that he’d been concentrating on and looking at Coulson.

Coulson just stares at him before he sighs and the left corner of his lips curves slightly. “It’s good to see you being yourself.” 

Clint isn’t really sure what to say to that. “I kissed you,” he blurts out, cringing as soon as he finishes speaking because that? Was _not_ what he should say. 

“Barton-“ Coulson stops after just saying his name, which makes Clint grimace and stare pointedly at the ugly tile on the floor. Really, S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to do some renovations because that had to have been here since the seventies. Coulson makes that aggravated groan-growl that Clint only hears him use when they work together. “Clint, look at me.”

There isn’t even a second delay between Coulson’s command and Clint looking up at him. Despite his own embarrassment and awkwardness, he obeys instinctively. “Sir?”

“Phil.” Coulson is smiling. It’s a small smile, but a real one. “If you’re going around kissing me, you have to call me Phil.”

“I do?” Clint feels nervous and uncertain. Maybe they’ve got Coulson--no, Phil--on some really strong drugs. He certainly seems more relaxed and casual than usual. Clint flips off the Nat voice that is reminding him that Coulson nearly died, Clint so why do you think he’d be stressed and tense right now.

“It’s a rule.” Phil scowls when he moves on the bed and reaches up to put his hand over his chest. “New rule. Just for you,” he adds, settling back down. Clint leans forward when he sees the pain flash across Phil’s face. It fades once he stops moving, but Clint is still tense and prepared to get help if something’s wrong.

“Okay, Sir?” Clint ducks his head when Phil looks at him and arches a brow. “Phil. Are you okay, Phil?’

“Don’t ask asinine questions.” Phil reaches out to touch Clint’s hand. Before he can pull away, the grip tightens. “I’m tired, sore, doped up on pain meds, and I was dead for three minutes and forty-two seconds. But, right now, here with a you that’s really you? I’m better than okay, Clint. Only thing that could make it better is getting your skinny ass over here and giving me a kiss since it’s only fair that we share our first one before I pass out again and you start thinking too hard again. Stolen ones when I’m not aware don’t count, by the way.”

“Is that a rule, too?” Clint can’t help but smile when Phil stops his rambling and actually pouts at him. There’s a good chance that Phil won’t even remember this or that Clint’s going to run and hide to think too much just like predicted but that’s something to worry about later. For now, he stands up, leans over, and gently presses his lips against Phil’s. When Phil kisses him back, Clint knows, somehow, that everything’s going to work out eventually.

End


End file.
